Booked

My husband and I finally booked flights to London. We are very excited and can't wait to see our daughter, her husband and our granddaughter in person, to be able to wrap our arms around them. By the time we go in April it will have been almost a year since we last saw them physically. Thanks to the wonderful technology of the internet and webcams we have been able to interact with them electronically. I recommend it to anyone who has family and friends living too far away to visit regularly. We have been able to watch our granddaughter grow and change, her personality emerging like a flower in bloom. She recognizes us because of the webcam and calls us Nana and Boppy. She will celebrate her second birthday while we are there. I cannot wait to go!

Blowin' In The Wind

Last night storms rolled across the region bringing with them high winds and much storm damage. Lost lives, downed trees, power outages, damaged homes and businesses, hail-pelted vehicles. As expected, the local news stations interrupted the evening programming to give constant updates of these fast-moving storms, urging people to take shelter. What I found truly amazing was the fact that some newscasters had to actually tell the viewing public not to call the stations to inquire about when their regular shows would be aired. Really, are people that stupid that they think it is more important to know who lost the most flab on The Big Loser than to know when they should be getting their sorry asses into a safe spot? I say we put these idiots all together in a trailer park in Kansas and keep the regular programming on when a horrific storm is about to descend on them. It can be a new reality show, Survival of the Witless. The winner gets to move on to the next season where the contestants are cloistered in shoddy homes along a river bank in the spring, without life jackets or rescue workers. Season three: a stint on the beach during hurricane season with no warning sirens. Wouldn't it be great viewing and a great public service to help clean up the gene pool?

Tantrum

I just sit down to relax, book in hand, with a soda and a butterscotch krispie bar when I hear the most obnoxious noise calling out to me. It grates on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard and I want to ignore it but it is insistent and seems to grow louder and louder by the minute. I try hard to concentrate on my book, but with every screech I grow tense and I am beginning to get angry. Why can't it just shut up and leave me alone? Can't I sit here for a while, uninterrupted, and take a break from painting? Like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, it screams out from down the hall then waits for my response. When I don't give in it screams again and again. By now my mood is surly and I arise in a huff. I march down the hall and fling open the door, clothes hanger in hand, fuming. The room goes silent instantly. I reach in and grab a sleeve and pull roughly. "There, are you satisfied?" I slam the door closed and the howling starts anew. I open the door again and grab a leg, jerking rather violently. It quiets for a second or two but incredibly the wailing begins again. How stupid can it be? Does it not know how angry I am? Over and over I reach in, grabbing a neck or a waist or an arm, until it is finally drained and all goes quiet. Just for good measure, I reach up and punch it. It remains still and defeated. I return to my chair, pick up my book and resume reading, trying to calm myself down. I hate that damn dryer and its buzzer with a vengence!

Lunatic

I think there is something terribly wrong with me and I may need psychological counseling.

For the past nineteen months I have worked in a job that I absolutely deplore. The reasons I despise it are varied but the three most compelling are the total lack of any kind of work ethic in most of the staff, the lack of management support to initiate change, and boredom. I could be like so many other working people and just go with the flow but I cannot. I am bored out of my mind at work. The only challenge is trying to motivate the staff. The rest of the work I could do in my sleep. So I have begun to search out new possibilities, something a bit more challenging.

I actually interviewed yesterday for a management position that I should probably run from, run fast without looking back. The place is a mess, the staff has free reign, there is no sense of order, and the office is most likely teetering on the edge of survival. There is a fairly new computer system in the office and statements haven't gone out in months. Why, oh why, would I even consider this as a replacement for the cake job I have now? Why would I want to take a position that I know would most likely take six months to a year of long, long days to turn around? From what I could gather during the interview there are no written office policies and procedures, no job descriptions, no discipline, no oversight. I would be absolutely crazy to even think about it, right? Then why am I mulling it over in my mind, thinking about what I would do first to begin the process of change? Why am I considering digging out manuals from a previous management position I held to begin thinking about writing new ones? Why am I excited about the prospect of learning yet another computer system and straightening out the accounting process in that office? I would have total control to implement the changes necessary. Is that what drives me? Am I really a control freak? Or do I just thrive on a good challenge? I know in my mind I should keep on looking for something that is not quite this risky or time consuming, something challenging but not bordering on lunacy. Why would I do this to myself? I can only determine that I am crazy. Somebody stop me!

Ordinary Wonders

While driving to work this morning, heading west toward the interstate, I was struck by the view before me. Heavy gray clouds were settled just above the dark, barren hills in the distance. The sun illuminated the buildings nestled in those hills, creating an image of black and white tones. The moon, full and just beginning to lose its glow to daylight, was positioned perfectly above the tallest building like the dot of an i. If I had had my camera with me I would have pulled over to take a picture. Even though I might have been late for work by doing so, I pulled over anyway to linger for just a moment, to let the image be etched into my memory. I wondered if any of the other commuters had noticed this picture perfect scene. All too often, we hurry through our day without noticing the beauty all around us, the simple beauty of ordinary things. We get so caught up in the stress and chaos that we forget how to really see our world. So I began to wonder what other people would find beautiful if they gave it some thought and actually took a good look around them. Would they notice the sun peeking out between the clouds like a giant sleepy eye? Would they notice the frothy, icy wake of the tug slowly pushing its load of coal up the river? Or notice the very moment that the nearby city pops into view as the traffic flows along? Would they see the glint of sun bouncing off the airplane as it tips its wing and arcs around for landing? Would they notice the twinkling of the lights on the radio towers atop those hills? Would they see the birds lined up like clothespins on the power line? Or perhaps the faint smile of the tousle-haired child staring out the window of the car in the next lane? What beautiful things do you see in your everyday, ordinary surroundings?

Ode to Snow

It is snowing this morning, enough snow to cover the streets with a blanket of silence. Everything is still and beautiful, waiting like a present for wondering eyes, waking the inner child of normally busy people. It makes one pause, if only briefly, to take in the landscape all around us, a landscape softened and buffered with its glimmering coat of white. Snowflakes dance and flutter like magic dust covering rooftops and cars, porches and swings, topping fenceposts and streetsigns like fuzzy wool caps. Trees are cloaked in a glorious cape of shimmer, branches stretched out in majesty. For a moment, one remembers the true beauty and intricacies of nature. Children will wake to the thrill of it all, anxious to revel in the veritable playground that awaits them, hoping fervently that school will be closed. Adults will go about their day with added excitement, a fleeting commonality among them. The snow will disappear tomorrow, melted away and forgotten, but today it is cause for pure joy.

Soulmate

Do you ever watch someone while they're sleeping and feel the wonder of the love they have brought into your life? I sometimes feel that way when I am lying next to my husband. Here is a list of things I have pondered in the darkness over the years we have been together:

1. With my moodiness I have wondered how in the world he hasn't killed me by now.
2. I also, at times, wonder how he is still alive.
3. I wonder how I was lucky enough to marry such a good-hearted, patient man.
4. How does one snore so incredibly loudly without waking himself up?
5. Do my children know how lucky they are to have such a great father?
6. Is he breathing?
7. Why do my troubles melt away when I am lying in the crook of his arm?
8. What is that smell?
9. How was it ever possible for both of us and our three young children to ever fit on a double bed?
10. Does he truly know how much I love him?
11. How is it that we can read each other's thoughts?
12. Why does he love to play those computer games so much?
13. How can I ever make it up to him for ranting and raving like a spoiled child?
14. How does a simple, silent gesture such as reaching for my hand in the darkness soothe my spirit after
a bad dream?
15. What have we done right over the years to make our marriage last this long?
16. Whoever wrote that line in Love Story, "Love is never having to say you're sorry" is full of crap.
17. Why is it possible to feel that everything will always be alright when he wraps his arms around me?
18. How is it that one can get lost in another's eyes?
19. Exactly what is it that makes us soulmates?
20. How is it he can he make me laugh when I am in one of my dark moods?
20. Will he remember that today is our anniversary?

I love you, dear husband. You are the most wonderful everything. Without you I would be lost. Here's to the rest of our lives together, be it good or bad, funny or sad, easy or difficult, rich or poor, healthy or sick. I will stay by your side always.

Hope

A former middle school/high school boyfriend of my daughter's stopped by to see my husband and me a week or so ago. While he was dating our daughter he became like part of the family. His home life was less than ideal, dysfunctional actually, and I suppose we were the stability he needed in his life. It was hard for our daughter to understand why we remained such a part of his life after they broke off their three year relationship. We felt that we couldn't just abandon him because he needed parental figures in his life. She was angry at first but after a while they were able to remain friends. In the meantime, he looked to us for guidance and assistance. He continued to come around to visit and we helped him get his first car and then helped a bit when he was in college and when he started his tiling business. We were happy to help emotionally and financially because he was a good young man. He got married about four years ago and his visits lessened. We knew that his wife didn't understand the bond he had with his former girlfriend's parents. We were happy for him and would be here if he needed us. Now he needs us. He needs us all.
When he knocked on our door I was immensely pleased to see him but I knew instantly that he was struggling with something. After just a minute of hellos and pleasantry he told me he needed someone to talk to that would understand what he was going through. His fifteen month old daughter was diagnosed with stage IV neuroblastoma and had been going through chemo for the past three months to shrink the tumors that had spread to her liver and adrenal glands. My heart sank and reached out for him simultaneously. I know all too well the emotional roller coaster he is on right now. It is terrible to know that all we can offer is an ear and comforting words, that this struggle for his daughter's life is the worst possible thing a parent can go through. When he told me his wife refused to talk about the possibility that their daughter may not survive I was flooded with memories of my daughter during her struggle to survive the brain tumor that stole her life. I, too, was resolute, at least in my mind, even when I knew in my heart that we were losing our battle. My advice to him was to try to be as positive as possible and understand that he and she can deal with this differently, don't push her to look beyond today because it is too much to bear and will cause many problems for his marriage. His need to protect himself and her from a huge emotional crisis is useless because there is no protection from the hell they will go through if his daughter does not survive this. That sounds a bit cruel but what his wife most likely needs is his unwavering support and hope. Hope. That is what gets one through each moment of each day and if you dwell on the what-ifs you may miss the small window of opportunity you have to capture the essence, the gift, of the child you may lose. I told him to take in every moment he could to be with his daughter and create a store of memories for the future, to have hope until the doctors tell him otherwise, and to understand that he and his wife will inevitably alternate standing strong and falling down. They have got to be there for each other, to hold each other up. We will be here for him to talk to anytime, night or day, when he feels he is faltering.

As for the rest of us, we all need to keep him and his family in our thoughts and prayers. His daughter will be having surgery soon to debulk the tumors and have an experimental stem cell transplant. I can only hope all goes well for all of them.

Dandelion addendum

Just a quick update on my post today. I was able to locate Dandelion's brother and get her phone number. She was very surprised to hear from me but we set a date to get together. It should be a lot of fun to see her again and after all these years we definitely won't run out of things to talk about.

Dandelion

Yesterday as I was painting I was listening to The Very Best of Cat Stevens on the stereo and it brought back memories of a friendship of the past, a friend whom I have lost contact with over the years. She lived on the corner of my block when I was in high school. She was tall, blonde, and easygoing. She wore combat boots and frayed bell-bottom jeans and called herself Dandelion. I thought she was very cool. She was creative and funny. We spent a lot of time in her basement making candles, drawing, writing poetry, listening to music, partying and watching Night Gallery and Cheech and Chong while her wild cat was bouncing off the walls. We laughed a lot. We rode our bicycles and dreamed of going on a cross-country ride. We were young and idealistic. Then she married young and had a beautiful baby boy and our relationship changed into a more mature friendship but she didn't lose the essence, the free-spiritedness, that she truly was. As time marched on we stayed in touch sporadically depending on where we were living and what was going on in our lives. We have both had to deal with some incredibly tough losses and somehow we lost touch. So it struck me as I was brushing on the paint, giving new life to my old cabinets, that I wanted to call her up to renew our friendship, to paint her back into my life. Good friends are too valuable to lock away in our minds, to be recalled only moments at a time. Like good silver, they should be brought out and enjoyed, refreshed, polished, and updated. Otherwise they may tarnish.

Real good friends should stick together
Through life's bends and through life's weather
Time flies by, our lives go on
We wonder where that friendship's gone.
Dandelion

Tinkle, Tinkle Little Ice

Tinkle, tinkle little ice
Beam & Coke would sure be nice
Over in the cabinet dear
You'll find the handle waiting near
Pour it over ice and then
Add some Coke and bring it in
Tinkle, tinkle little ice
Here's your tip for being nice.

Over the past week I have been on vacation. Not a relaxing, fun in the sun kind of vacation but a working, get'r done kind of vacation. I was able to update my resume and send it out to a few places because I am seeking a change in location and/or vocation. I have been painting, painting and more painting on my kitchen cabinets-still not finished but it is getting there. My older sister visited on Monday and stayed over and in that big sister pushy sort of way, encouraged me to get busy painting. Thanks Sis. I have done the laundry and changed the linens, paid the bills and balanced the checkbook, sorted and shredded a mountain of paperwork, and in the midst of all that I have managed to start this blog and have almost finished with the book I have been reading. Whew! TGIF! When my husband gets home we will probably rent a movie so I can fall asleep in my chair. There is just one thing missing from all this. My daughter, the bartender (there had to be something in it for us to send her to college all those years). I miss being able to hold up my glass and tinkle the ice for a refill. Now I will have to go back into the kitchen and decide if I am going to pick up the paintbrush or the Beam. Hmm, it's after 5 in London so maybe.....Party On!

Windfall

Have you ever dreamed of winning the big lottery, of all the things you could do with the money? C'mon, I know you have. I most certainly have. Some may consider it a waste of time to dream of what you would do with the windfall if it were to ever come to fruition. But what you do with all that cash could determine how much you enjoy it. Here is my list, after meeting with an attorney and financial advisors, of course:
1. I would pay off every penny of my debt and my children's debts.
2. I would create a college fund for my grandchildren.
3. I would sell my house and build a small, energy efficient home of my own design in the country.
4. I would buy my husband that elusive recliner he has wished for for so long.
5. I would create a trust for my children to ensure their financial futures.
6. I would share some of my winnings with my friends and relatives.
7. I would visit my daughters in London and Chicago as often as I wished.
8. I would go back to college.
9. I would set up a charitable trust and manage it for the benefit of others so as not to let the money steal my soul.

Here is what I would not do:
1. I would not build a huge house. That is just not me and I hate to clean anyway.
2. I would not buy jewelry. I am not a bling, bling kind of person.
3. I would not quit working. I would work for the charitable trust and do volunteer work but I would not want to be idle for too long.
4. I would not gamble away my money like some winners have.
5. I would not spend rashly without thinking it through.

What would you do with the winnings if it happened to you?

Addiction of Love

I am an addict. No ifs, ands, or buts about it I am truly hooked on a red liquid substance. It is called Big Red. I have tried over and over throughout the years to free myself from its sugary sweet flavor but I always fail. Somehow this soda has been entwined in my neural cells and without it the cravings are powerful. I have gone months without it but once I cave in and have one I am helpless to stop myself from having more and more until I can finally garner enough willpower to give it up again. I feel like I should be going to AA and working on the 12-step program. Step one: Admit your addiction. So here I am admitting my weakness for anyone to read.

Besides the caffeine effect that Big Red has and the ability to quench my desire for sweets, this soda evokes fond memories from my childhood, memories of my grandfather. Whenever I pour a glassful and take that first sip with the bubbles dancing and popping just under my nose, releasing that cream soda smell, I always think of him, every single time. There was a particular little bar in my hometown that had a family room in the back. My grandfather would take me and my siblings there occasionally. He would have a beer and we would have "red pop". Sometimes he would treat us to lunch. It was such a joy to get out and spend time with him alone.

He died when I was only ten so I don't remember everything about him but I do remember his love for us. I remember him teaching us how to safely shoot the BB guns at the target area he set up in his basement. I remember him patiently teaching us how to use the jigsaw to cut out all sorts of wooden figures while keeping our fingers out of the way of the blade. I remember him teaching us about his tools and how to use them to make anything our young minds could dream up. I remember going out to the river with him to fish or to just sit and listen as the water rolled over the dam and made its way past us. Sometimes we would roll up our pantlegs and wade at the edge or dangle our feet in the water, mesmerized by the motion. I remember how he loved to go for drives with us just to take in the countryside, sometimes stopping at a tiny country store for a soda and a penny candy. I remember how he would be sitting in his chair when we would run into his house, reminding us to close the door because he wasn't heating the outside. Then I would give him a quick kiss and sneak a sip of his beer. He always pretended not to notice. These are just a few of the treasures of my past. I find it very difficult to give up my addiction, my comfort drink of sorts, because it makes me happy.

Clutterphobic

Today I have been painting my kitchen cabinets. It is very satisfying to see them go from dark, dated wood to a rich cream color. It is a rather tedious process though and it has taken a lot of will power to continue on when I would rather sit down and read or write or just relax in front of the television with my husband. I started working on them back in the fall. Because I have limited space I can only empty out a couple of cabinets at a time. Then I have to clean, sand, prime and paint. Then the waiting begins for the paint to cure for a few days before I can put everything back on the shelves. By this time I am getting antsy to get everything back in its place. Afterward I, being clutterphobic, need to have a few days or weeks of order before I can begin on another couple of cabinets. And so the process continues. I am hoping to have them all finished no later than the end of February.
I don't know exactly when I became clutterphobic. I find now that I get easily agitated when things are in disarray. Maybe that stems from the fact that I grew up in a small house with five brothers and sisters. There was always a lot going on and never enough room for everything. Then when I went to college I lived with my oldest sister and her family. Again there was a lot of activity around me. When my children were young they had a lot of friends in and out all the time and there was hardly a moment when there were no toys, books, games, and schoolwork lying about the house. This never bothered me much back then but after my girls went off to college and I got used to the quietness of the house, I also got used to having things picked up and neat. Now if I have a houseful of people for an extended period of time I have to try very hard to keep my nerves in check. Of course, drinking helps. There is nothing like a nice mixed drink to ease me into a jolly mood. Give me a whiskey and I am happy as can be. So, if you'll excuse me, I am going to go mix one up now and try not to look at all the food stacked on the countertop and table waiting for paint to dry. Cheers!

BETRAYED!

There is no doubt I've been betrayed
I feel so rejected.
You snuck around behind my back
So long undetected.

But now your little secret's out
It cannot be ignored.
I'll never, ever trust again
My faith can't be restored.

I'll have to face this on my own
I'll find the stength within.
We've been together for so long
But now it has to end.

Another I will call my own
Because you broke my heart.
Goodbye to you, I'm leaving now
I'm sad that we must part.

But off I go to start anew
There is no other choice.
A great replacement I will find
And then I will rejoice.

You will not get the best of me
I'll leave you with your lies.
I will find jeans that will not shrink
And taunt me for my size!

Wholesaler Scam

I am usually a fairly forgiving person unless a company makes me really angry. Then I will boycott. Case in point was with Readers' Digest. I read this magazine while growing up and subscribed for years as an adult. Its short articles were sometimes all the reading I had time for while working and raising three children. About eight years ago I was trying hard to stick to a strict budget because of the cost of sending my two oldest daughters to college so when the renewal notice came in I just set it aside. I thought I might let the subscription lapse that year. I continued to receive the magazine over the next few months but didn't think anything about it. Who keeps track of when their subscription will expire anyway? Then one day I received a collection notice stating I hadn't paid for my subscription. I was furious. I called Readers' Digest and was informed that because I had been a long-time customer they had renewed automatically and I supposedly now owed for the magazines I had received for the past three months. This was part of their customer service program. Well, anyone who knows me can tell you this didn't sit well with me. I refused their kind gesture, thank you, got my account credited and a letter from them stating my account was placed for collection in error. I also cancelled my subscription permanently and told them to take me off their mailing and call lists, that if I ever got so much as a sweepstakes notice I would be talking to an attorney. For seven years I got nothing from them. Then my husband got a subscription as a gift from his mother. We now have this magazine in our house again, taunting me as it sits on the shelf in the bathroom, but I refuse to pick it up and read it. He says I am just stubborn but I say it is the principle of the matter.

I am about to do battle with another company. This time it is Sam's Club. For anyone not familiar with it, it is a wholesale company to which we pay an annual membership fee for the privilege of shopping there. My husband loves to shop there, especially for groceries, and uses his Sams' card to charge most purchases. We bought his fairly expensive eyeglasses there back in July and they had a special deal where interest and payments could be deferred for six months. That was fine with me. I let this balance sit on the account until November and then paid it in full. Or so I thought. A portion of my payment was applied to purchases that had been made after the statement date but before the payment date, therefore leaving a balance still on the eyeglasses. I had not even been billed for these purchases yet. In my opinion, Sams' has breached their credit contract. Because we shop there frequently each month I could potentially not ever pay off this deferred balance and have interest applied. This infuriates me to no end. I have now banned my husband from using his Sams' card until the payments catch up to the current charges. I am considering taking this to an attorney to see about a class-action lawsuit for credit fraud. I am sure there are many unsuspecting people out there who have probably paid interest that they didn't owe because of this payment allocation method. In the meantime, I am shredding my Sams' card and will probably never step foot in the store again. I can hold a grudge for a long time when I am taken advantage of. I work right down the street from Costco, another wholesaler, so I may check them out instead. Anyone else out there with a Sams' card beware. You could be getting screwed too!

Fat Tax

If I am 30 lbs overweight and my husband is 50 lbs overweight that equates to approximately a 10 year old child's weight. Can we claim another dependent on our taxes?

Morning Coffee

I never was a coffee drinker until about four years ago but now I have to have at least two cups every morning before I can start my busy day. I started drinking coffee as an evening treat when my husband, daughter and I went on the "Fatkins" :-) diet. Because fats are allowed in the diet we could have a cup of coffee laden with cream, even topped with whipped cream if desired. We would cheat sometimes and have it with Irish cream. It was most delicious! The weight came off but I became addicted to the aromatic bean. Because of this, I now actually enjoy getting up early, I do mean early - 5:30ish, so I can savor the warm, comforting cup of java. I find it very relaxing to sit with cup in hand, read the paper and work the crossword. I find mornings are also better for writing because I am more alert and retrospective so I sit at the keyboard, sipping and tapping away. It is wonderfully quiet at this time of day. It is still dark outside and there is only an occasional car going by. I can watch the sun come up and see the neighbors' lights flick on one by one as they emerge from their slumber. Slowly the quiet is replaced with the chirping of birds, the meowing of the neighbor's cat who loves to sit on our porch just outside my office window, the telltale squeak of the shower faucet indicating my husband has arisen, more traffic and eventually the laughter and chattering of the schoolkids as they wait at the bus stop in front of our house. Then the sound of the bedroom door opening and I know I must arise from my seat to take my turn in the shower and begin my workday. On weekends, I tend to still arise early but with the knowledge that I can crawl back into bed for a snooze before I actually start the activities of the day and the coffee is only sweeter because of this.
I suppose I have become very selfish with my time because I still enjoy the evenings when most everyone else is asleep (refer to previous blog entry Night Owls). But the evenings are a different, more active, more noisy type of unwinding as opposed to the gentle winding up of the mornings. And I rarely like to have my cup of Joe to go.

Brother, Brother

I was born and raised in a small town in southern Indiana and was the fifth of six children. I have three sisters and 2 brothers. Today I would like to write about my brothers as both of their birthdays are this month.

My brothers and I were stairsteps, each a year apart. We were like the Three Musketeers when we were young. In the summertime my mother would shoo us out the door to play shortly after breakfast. There was always something to do, an adventure to be had, right in our own backyard.

We had a very large sandbox (8'x10') in which we could let our imaginations flow. We would take the garden hose and wet down the sand then begin creating our castles, moats, towns, and roads. If we didn't like what we built we could wash it all away with the hose and start over. We could lie down and make sand angels (no need to wait for snow). Sometimes we would build skyscrapers, challenging each other to see whose would reach the highest. Other times we would build a race track and then bring out our toy cars and trucks to zoom along in an imaginary Indy500. Battlefields with tiny toy armies provided hours of fun and strategy. If we didn't want to build we would smooth out the sand and it became a giant canvas for drawing pictures, a MagnaDoodle of sorts. There was something mystical about the way the sand felt on our bare feet, sqishing between our toes, while the sun baked our young bodies to a golden brown, sprinkling our faces with freckles. We learned how to manipulate the sand, getting it to just the right consistency for the project at hand, molding it, smoothing it like clay, poking holes with sticks, adding assorted ornamentation. We spent hours in that sandbox and were probably the dirtiest children in the neighborhood. But we were happy, and I might add, the envy of the neighborhood kids.

When we tired of the sandbox we would play on the swingsets, soaring skyward in the canvas seats. My brothers taught me to be fearless, swinging higher and higher, then letting go at just the right moment so I could go sailing through the air like a trapeze artist, then landing on my feet like a cat, arms raised for balance. We would scramble up to the top bar, hang from our knees and flip around like little gymnasts, or walk carefully across as if it were a balance beam. When we tired of that we would take blankets and throw them over the bar to create a huge tent where we would pretend to be camping. We would make tables and chairs from concrete blocks and scraps of wood and I could bring out my dolls for a tea party.

When we were called in for lunch, we would protest because we were having too much fun. But in we would go. After lunch, we would nap on a pallet of blankets and a cool cotton sheet spread out on the living room floor, a fan humming away in the corner gently blowing away the heat of the day, lulling us to sleep. When we awoke, if we had a penny or two, we could go across the alley to the little candy store, where we would agonize over what to buy. Once we made our purchases, we would hurry back to gobble up our goodies.

If we felt industrious, or just low on our pennies, we would set up a lemonade stand. We had the best lemonade stand on the block because we also had our own little cotton candy machine, snow cone machine, and miniature soda fountain. We would carefully pour the sugar into the whirring machine and let it perform its magic, spinning it into puffy clouds. Then we would catch it up on paper cones to sell along with the drinks. We learned to work as a team, alternating who would pump out the soda or stir up the lemonade, who would crank the handle to make the colorful sno-cones, and who would collect the money and make the change.

In late afternoon, we would fill up the wading pool and turn on the sprinkler. We would play water games, chasing each other with the hose, or fill water balloons to play water tag with our friends. We would dash behind trees and bushes and hide until just the right moment when we could launch our balloons at our "enemies". Then we would run like crazy to escape the retaliation, sometimes slipping on the wet grass, sliding around like seals.

After dinner, as the day was fading into twilight, we would run out with jars to catch lightning bugs. Those twinkling little creatures were as fascinating as anything we could imagine. When we finally had to go in for the night, we would open the lids and let them go, free to light up the night sky like tiny stars as they flitted around.

At other times, we would invite the neighbor kids over to play softball. My brothers taught me how to pitch and catch, and how to swing the bat at just the right moment to make contact with the ball. They taught me how to slide across the grass and how to steal bases. I learned how to shoot hoops with my brothers. The goal was set up at the end of a small concrete pad at the back of the yard and we spent many hours arcing the ball toward the backboard, getting just the right spin to allow it to drop through the net. I learned to ride my bicylce with my brothers' help and once I got the hang of it we would race down the sidewalks together, feet pedaling as fast as they would go. We were only allowed to go from one corner of the block to the other at first, then around the block, then around our neighborhood. It was the freedom every kid dreams of. As we got older, we ventured out all over our town, out to the river, and the surrounding countryside.

Not all our days were joyful. We fought like any other kids did. We clung to each other when my father drank too much and was arguing with my mother. We teased and tormented each other as kids will. But we forged an unbreakable bond in those early years that would last a lifetime no matter how far apart we lived or what direction our lives took us. In good times and bad, we would be there for each other because we were family and my brothers were my protectors and my wards. I love them dearly. And though one of them has died, I will always hold them dear in my heart. Happy Birthday Brothers!

Night Owls

I never was a morning person. I preferred the quiet of night after everyone else was asleep to take in my down time. It was inherited, or learned, from my mother. With six kids the only time she had to herself was late at night. I can remember seeing her, after everyone was tucked into bed, curled up on the sofa with a Coke, reading and keeping one eye on the television. This was her reward after a busy day of work and kids. She liked to do all sorts of projects late at night - perhaps painting a room a new color, writing a letter or a poem, putting together gag gifts for our crazy Christmas parties. I, like all my brothers and sisters, evolved into a night owl also. If we needed someone to talk to or just wanted to share a funny story we all knew we could call each other without much fear of waking each other up. Most people would think this strange, and it probably is, but I love my family this way. One night in particular remains in my memory and always makes me laugh. My husband and kids had all been in bed for a few hours. I had been reading and still wasn't tired. So I called my mother. As I was chatting with her on the phone I decided to make cinnamon toast. Unfortunately, after I put the bread under the broiler I promptly forgot about it until the smoke alarm sounded. I was torn on what to do first, get the burnt toast out of the oven or get that screeching alarm knocked off the ceiling so I could kill the sound before my husband woke up and realized I was on the phone and snacking in the wee hours. (He never did quite understand this peculiar night habit). I threw the phone down, snatched the alarm and ripped out the battery, then sprinted to the oven and rescued the toast from becoming charcoal. When I returned to the phone my mother was laughing hysterically at the commotion she had heard. Amazingly, my family stayed sound asleep. I was able to continue on and enjoy the lightly charred centers of my toast. My mother has passed on, but that memory is always uplifting for me. Now I rely on my siblings to carry on in her stead. And they will, happily.

Knock Knock

Over the holidays I have given much thought about my neighbors and how I really don't know many of them. When I was a child we knew everyone on our block and a lot of the people in the surrounding blocks. My best friend lived across the street, my grandmother lived a block away, and a school playground was around the corner. I suppose it was easier to get to know people because they used to sit out on their front porches in the evenings. If you wanted someone to talk to or play with you simply had to go for a walk and stop for a visit on a porch swing. Someone always had a pot of coffee brewing and KoolAid for the kids. Life seemed simpler back then.

This said, I have decided to try to introduce myself to at least two neighbors on my block in the next week. I know everyone is busy with work, kids, etc., but I am tired of seeing these people come and go while I have no idea who they are. I am going to be proactive about it. I may bake some cookies, wrap them up, knock on a couple of doors and simply introduce myself. No pressure to visit, just to let them know who lives in our home. I have also been thinking for a few months that I should organize a block party in the springtime. I am not looking for solid friendships, simply pleasant acquaintances. I have a handful of very close friends that I can't seem to find enough time for already. I just think it would be nice to know the people in this little world we call "neighborhood".

This may sound fairly easy for most people but for me it will be a test in self-determination. As I said in my first post I am a very private, actually shy, person. It takes me a while to warm up to people and I have been inclined to avoid situations where I don't know anyone. But as I get older I realize how much this has affected my life and it is never too late to change. I will let you know how it goes.

Finding My Voice

Blogging is a very new experience for me. I am usually a very private person. This small venture into blogdom may be short-lived but I felt the need to give my voice an outlet. There are so many things, good and bad, going on in the world that need our attention. Perhaps sharing our thoughts on blogsights is one step toward making changes, one person at a time. The catalyst to finally create my blog was hearing yet another story about Britney Spears on the Today show this morning. Really, haven't we heard it all again and again and again? Does the average viewer even care? When the morning "news" programs become "trash tv" it is time to tune them out and turn them off. What I would like to propose is that everyone that feels they've had enough of this kind of newscasting go to the network sites and email your comments. Let them know we want real news, not gossip. It may not make a difference but isn't it worth trying?